


Polar Vortex

by dagnymunroe



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dagnymunroe/pseuds/dagnymunroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma has found a new king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polar Vortex

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic. I don't have a beta so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for taking the time to to read my story. All comments are welcome and appreciated.

Emma stepped off her private plane, the hem of her white trenchcoat fluttering in the mild breeze. She took a moment to breathe in the fresh air on the crisp morning. She had flown far and long to meet this mystery man, and the only reason she wasn't in a bad mood was her intense curiosity about this self proclaimed god.her team had discovered in Norway. Sure, her teams found this type of deluded individuals like grains of sand on a beach. But something about this man made her think this was more than someone needing meds and a vacation to a funny farm.

She stepped into her limo and nodded to the driver, and the car sped towards destiny,

+++

It hadn’t been difficult to change his appearance. Emerald eyes darkened to a sea blue, patrician features made pedestrian by a nose broken one too many times. His silky raven hair, made coarse, lightened to a dusty blonde. A small spell, the cost to his magick, negligible. It had been even less difficult to convince this small group of buffoons that he was a healer. Filthy rich buffoons. The paid him ridiculous sums of money for cures that would never rid them of their true pain, their true weakness: mortality. A smirk twisted his thickened lips, Loki as a healer. The irony was delicious really.

A blonde woman strolled into the expansive waiting area that she had been asked to come to by some underling. She was well dressed, and all in white. Her heels clicked upon the cool marble of the room. Her hair was the color of snow. She pulled to a stop a few meters from him, her pale blue eyes gazed evenly at him for a long moment before she reached into a pocket of her trench coat.

“So what name do you answer to these days? Son of Laufey? Or just Loki, god of mischief?”

She pulled something from her pocket, a silver cigarette case. “I’m fine with whatever you like…..”

Loki’s jaw flexed imperceptibly at the name Laufey and then immediately relaxed. "How sweet that you think you have the right to address me at all, Emma." He paused, his look thoughtful. "Did you know your name means Universal Cold? Hopefully, that moniker is a wholly inaccurate reflection of who you truly are. If not," his lips pursued in a moue of regret, as his eye traveled the length of her body, "what a loss for all mankind."

Emma’s lips curled into a soft smile with his comment about rights to address him. “That is why I prefer not to go so much by the names our fathers bestow upon us, but names we choose…..or titles to which we aspire.”

She slowly circled him, her eyes keeping steadily upon him.

“Ambition can be such a terrible burden….for those whose abilities are unable to match their reach.” She paused for a moment. “Or so I have heard.”

“My dear, ambition implies striving for a goal. I am merely collecting that which due me as the son a king.”

“A king of a frozen wasteland? You are meant for far much more.” Sky blue eyes held her gaze. Emma watched as they fluttered briefly before as a momentary tightness came into them. Then his smile widened and his stance relaxed as if he had all the time in the world to indulge her in this little tete a tete. She supposed since she had come to see him after all and it wouldn’t do for him to seem concerned or at all interested in what she was doing so far from her city. The game continued.

Emma opened her cigarette case and pulled one out. “I see you as being meant for far more suitable climes than such dead lands. To be honest, I doubt a single world would satisfy your desires.”

Emma put the cigarette between her lips and lit it. “I relish a man with such far reaching ambitions, and the ability to reach their goals. You simply have to have the wisdom to select a suitable throne.”

He stepped close, fingers pinching the end of the cigarette, putting it out. "I am not fond of flame and this is a house of health, little human." He gave her a measuring stare. "But you have, what is that quaint mortal phrase, ah, yes, piqued my curiosity." He leaned closer until his lips were at the shell of her ear, his cool breath fanning the delicate hairs at the nape of her neck . "What do you think you know of my desires?"

Emma felt her flesh pebble with the cool air flowing over her bared neck, but she never minded the chill. She simply turned her head away from him, as if bored by the attentions of a doltish suitor. “Men are men, be they sons of kings or lowly commoners. They want the very thing they cannot have….” With that, Emma took a casual step away from Loki, looking at the expensive manicure she maintained on her hand.

"But my dear child, I am not a man," Loki purred and Emma watched as her expensive manicure split and cracked, the flesh of her fingers peeling away and dripping blood to the pristine marble floor, "I am a god."

Emma’s moment of disconcertment was well disguised on a serene face accustomed to familiar horrors. She was adept in illusion herself, but she had to admit he was quite gifted. She wondered if he was equally gifted in other ways. She sighed as if bored, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Gods are quite common in this day and age, my icy friend. What we are in short supply of these days are those with the power to rule, to dominate. I want to know if you can rise to the level of your sizable ambitions.”

Loki's laugh was loud and startlingly genuine. "Oh but I like this." Emma felt the hard muscle of Loki’s chest at her back. “Does the White Queen mean to add Kingmaker to her list of meaningless titles?"

Emma’s temper spiked with his degradation of her hard earned titles.

“At least my plans always bear fruit, unlike yours. Or do you always blame your shortcomings on your dullard of a brother.” She wriggled her hips a little against his firm body behind her to take thie sting from her words. “Every queen needs a king…..” she purred. “I am just... mildly... curious if you are suitably….gifted...for the tasks at hand.”

Emma felt a circle of iron around her upper arm and heard Loki’s quick drawn in breath as if were mastering his own flare of anger at the mention of his brother’s name and the allusion to his shortcomings. She looked down at her arm and watched as short blunt workman’s hands became the long elegant fingers of an artist.

"I can assure you," Loki's fingers moved in an intricate dance against her skin and Emma felt a wave of hot pleasure rush through her stomach down through her toes, "I am eminently suitable for any task at hand."

On hearing her soft, obviously affected moan, he decided the time for these childish games was done. He could appreciate this little mortal’s skill at verbal sparring, something he had sorely missed in those final days before...before... She was undeniably beautiful, not that Loki was of a mind to deny himself anything. She thought to make him a king and be the power behind the throne. She would attempt to control him and it would be amusing to watch her try. And amusements were all he had left while he waited.

Decision made, it was time for the real games to begin. He motioned for his assistant who had been watching the proceedings with an amused grin. "Anselm. Please let our guests know that the Reiki Institute is no longer accepting or training initiates. They have three hours to vacate the premises. You have twenty-four. Thank you for your service. And I would not linger a moment longer were I you."

The man bowed and hurried away to make the arrangements, clearly used to his employer, now former employer's capriciousness.

“Is it something I said?” Emma drawled drily, a coy little smile playing across her lips as she saw Loki’s assistant walk away with a determined yet not surprised expression. She looked up at him from over her bared shoulder with a saucy pout. “As for suitability, I find that words ring hollow compared to the evidence of actions.”

Emma watched as the illusion Loki had spun around himself slowly dissolved away. In its place stood a living, breathing testament to the word refined. Everything about him whispered breeding from his slicked back ebony hair, patrician features and lithe frame to his bespoke suit and hand crafted leather oxfords. “I am waiting on your action, my dear. I assume you did not walk to Norway in those very expensive boots of yours.”

Emma slipped a hand into her trench coat's pocket and thumbed a number into the dial.

“We’re going back to New York straight away. Fuel the jet, and we’ll be having a guest. Have records prepare a suitable passport. I want it ready before we depart. Excellent.”

With that, she thumbed the call closed. “So what am I to call you? You still haven’t answered my question.” She reached up over her shoulder to run her fingers through his hair.

“Besides, king, that is.”

Emma felt strong thin fingers caress her sides as a honey accented voice in her ear said, "My King will do just fine."

“I’ll consider it….” she purred, turning her head up to gaze into those dark eyes. And found nothing there. She spun around to find Loki standing across the lobby waiting impatiently at the double glass door entrance of the Institute. A camel hair coat covered his elegantly tailored suit. A forest green green cashmere scarf and black leather gloves completed the outfit. He lifted a exquisitely carved cane from the stand. An emerald the size of a robin’s egg shone at the center. "Are you coming my dear?"

Emma reached up to fan her hair out from her trench coat and walked smartly to him. She adjusted his scarf a tiny bit before smoothing her hand over his coat. He gripped her hand in a band of steel, and pushed it away, a warning smirk twisted his lips and a hint of madness flashed in his eyes as he almost imperceptibly shook his head. The message of do not touch as clear as if he’d said the actual words.

“This is going to be fun," she mumured as she looked up at him.

Loki’s grin showed every one of his blindingly white teeth, “What would be the point if it wasn’t?”

“So true….” Emma drawled, a wicked grin of her own lighting up her face. “Shall we?” she held out her hand towards the door.

With all the charm and poise bred into him from his centuries spent as an Asgardian royal, Loki offered his crooked arm to Emma, “Worlds await.”

+++

It was a little known fact that Loki hated to fly. Immortal or no, a fall from 6 miles up would be enough to rend nerve from muscle and shatter his bones on the hard earth below. Whether or not he would survive was irrelevant. The agony of his injuries would shred his mind and leave him a gibbering idiot long before his body could heal itself. Loki shivered.

The thought that his fate was in the hands of a mortal made his teeth ache. And so he amused himself with little tricks. Nothing that could be directly attributable to him of course. A priceless beaujolais now so much cooking vinegar. A stewardess opening an overhead compartment only to have fire extinguisher spill out and cover her from head to toe in foam. The thin silk of another hostess’s blouse, made transparent, highlighting generous cleavage barely restrained by a lacy undergarment now two cup sizes too small. Loki merely arched a surprisingly delicate brow and said “Contents may shift indeed.”

Emma simply sat across from Loki, mulling the godling over a chess set. She shook her head as if she were dealing with a bored and hyperactive child. “Lysette, it’s all right. Leave us….”

The humiliated stewardess all but ran towards the service area of the posh plane.

“Rather than belittling my underlings, perhaps we might play a game of chess to pass the time and distract you from your immediate concerns.”

“Belittle your underlings?“ If innocence could be bottled and sold, Loki would have looked like he’d drunk a case. “Perhaps your safety inspectors require additional training? The poor thing could have been severely injured. And it does not speak well of how you compesensate your employees if they cannot afford well-fititng clothes.” He arched a brow, "Should i be concerned? Do you offer dental?"

Ignorning his jibes, Emma picked up the white queen from her side of the table. “Do Asgardians play anything like chess?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

“Chess?” Loki frowned. “I’m not familiar with the term.” If his tone was anything to go by, it annoyed him to no end to admit that Emma might know something he did not.

Emma smiled at her guest and placed to piece onto the board.

“It is a game, but a deceptively simple game with a great amount of strategy. I am a firm believer that the more complex the mind, the greater the need for play.”

She began to patiently explain the game, piece by piece. She was an excellent teacher, and he was a quick learner. For the first time Emma felt the full intensity of Loki’s focus. Something, she suspected, he reserved only for topics that interested him. He grasped the rules almost instantly. The moves he made were as quick and impetuous as Emma's were slow and thoughtful. He lost each and every game except for one. Emma had turned away from the board for a moment and in that time three pawns changed sides. He claimed victory seven moves later.

Emma knew all too well of Loki’s nature and recognized the change of the pieces. But she didn’t mention it. She was secure in her skills, and what Loki didn’t know was an advantage in her favor. Not every game is played on a board and it amused her to see he was a sore loser and an even sorer winner. Emma sat back in her plush seat and pondered him with that serene gaze.

“When will you show me your true face? This one is so ….pedestrian.”

“This is my true face,” he responded distractedly, setting up the pieces for another game; deliberately setting the white queen in the wrong square. Hiding the change with a quick illusion.

“Is it?” Emma said with a dry tone.

“Yes,” he insisted, his voice tightening, not looking up from the board though the pieces had long since been set up for new game.. He fisted one hand in the other and pinched the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. The lines of his body were relaxed; he seemed unaware of the agitated motion of his own hands.

“Pity….” Emma drawled, swirling her drink in the tumbler. She rested her chin in her palm as she gazed down at the field of play.

“You do have the makings of a decent player….” she observed. “My father would appreciate your approach to the game. He always said it's only cheating if you get caught.”

Loki reached over to Emma’s side of the board and corrected the queen’s position and proceeded to soundly trounce her in the next two games. He used no trickery; his game too disjointed to be elegant, but his won none-the-less. "Did you really belive that I had no knowledge of this game?" He seemed disappointed.

"Yes. I found it hard to believe that Loki Liesmith would tell a lie so poorly; so therefore it must be the truth."

Loki ignored the insult. “Why did you bring me here Emma?”

Emma picked up the black king from the board and pondered it for a moment. “I desire power….but power without proper focus is wasted. And you, my dear, are focused upon all the wrong things. You want revenge for every slight you have suffered at the hands of others. And one day, you shall have it. But I want to help you have the kind of revenge that isn’t fleeting or temporary. The kind of vengeance that lives beyond the plans of even a godling.”

She casually tossed the piece to him. It hovered mid-air between them, spinning slowly.

Loki’s gaze was impassive. The floating figurine slowly lowered to the table. The black ivory ran like water in and over itself until it became a twisted, hunched, figure screaming in agony.

Emma picked up the piece and examined it with a cool expression. “Bother….” she sighed. “So much for my set...unless you’d care to modify the rest?”

The figurine liquefied again and returned to its original state with one barely noticeable difference. The face and hands of the king had miniscule scars that resembled tribal markings and a smile with noticeably pointed teeth.

“Living well is the best revenge, Loki Friggason. I can help you achieve a victory no one will ever be able to strip away from you. Will it be easy? No. But together we can have our mutual enemies gnash their teeth in envy.”

He settled back into his plush seat watching Emma from underneath hooded eyes. She did not seem to rattle easily. He would have to try harder. Anyone who thought to ally themselves with Loki Silvertongue, Trickster, Oathbreaker, Liesmith would need a strong constitution. Loki Liesmith. Of all his names that was his favorite.

“That is a lovely...sentiment," he One that warms the cockles of my heart. But why me Emma? What do you think this ‘godling’ can do to satisfy your desires?” His tongue curled around the name she’d given him as if tasting it and finding the flavor pleasing,

Emma settled back herself, crossing her legs and met his gaze.

“Believe it or not, I’m drawn to you for more than my obvious desire for suitable partnerships.” Emma pouted her lips for a moment before continuing. “I’ve pieced together your legend….from a wide variety of resources. If one thing is certain, you and I share a certain amount of familial issues. In short, you and I have daddy issues. We feel as if we come up short in the eyes of our fathers, despite being extraordinary in every way. We seek remedy to that injustice.”

A gleam of interest entered Loki’s eye. “A wide variety of resources you say. Pray do tell. What resources? Which legend have you pieced together from the hand-me-down tales of drunkards and thieves?”

“Nothing reliable….” Emma mused. “Not that any source could be considered unsullied, especially anything from someone known as Liesmith.”

“So much research on this little godling,I am flattered.” She couldn’t tell if he was being ironic. He leaned forward, hands on his knees his posture coiled “Surely then, you must know that I am mad?” He said it matter of factly but with an edge that dared her to disagree and have him name her the liar.

“But of course….”

Emma curled a finger through her blonde locks with a devilish grin.

“I must share the same diagnosis for even considering dealing with one such as you. Yet, here I am.”

Loki laughed again. He reached out and then somehow was inches away from her. His scent enveloped her. Pine. Earth. Anger. Lust. An impossibly long finger twined with hers, “Like sunlight and silk. Oh this brings back memories.”

Emma was momentarily startled by his trick, but she recovered enough to smooth her fingers over his long hair.

“Ones you find pleasant, I hope?”

He smiled wistfully. “Not in the least.” His lips ghosted over the delicate shell of her ear, less than an atom separating her flesh from his. “So little Emma Brighteye, what do have planned for me once we reach New York.”

Emma’s lips parted slightly with the pale sensation of Loki’s breath over her ear, fighting the urge to bite her lower lip against the quiet thrill coursing through her. She could feel a flutter inside, like a captive dove in a cage.

“We find you satisfactory living space, and then we begin to mull upon what course of action would bring us the most fortune and glory.” She pulled away just enough to stare into his eyes, tiny teeth worrying her plump bottom lip.

Loki nearly laughed. She thought herself the seductress. Capable of using her sex to bend any male to her whim, make them her slave. He would show her what it meant to enslave someone. He would ruin her. Make it so the only name she ever screamed in the throes of lust was his. It would be so easy. He’d done it before. Just recently. His lips curved with pleasure as he remembered another little mortal who thought to seduce him. A little mortal with red hair to match the red in her ledger

He settled next to Emma on the long padded bench meaning to show her what seduction really was when a startling crack of thunder enveloped the plane in a ghostly light. The plane dropped 5000 feet in the matter of a few moments.

Emma was the mistress of the mind, but she was as affected by the real world as any mortal. The sudden peal of thunder and drastic change in altitude had her clutching at Loki for succor in desperation. She realized she had grabbed him, and cursed herself for it, but she didn’t let go. She hid her face against his chest.

He thought to berate Emma for her lack of courage, when she first gripped him; but the words of mockery died on his lips. He felt her slight frame tremble as she clung to him, her face buried against his chest.

Something warm and unwelcome twisted inside him as he remembered another who had clung to him so, trusting him to save her.  She hadn’t had the opportunity to learn from her mistake.  His held his arms awkwardly at his sides waiting for her panic ease and for her to push away.   And yet, she didn’t retreat. At least, not completely. She looked up at him from crystal blue curtained by delicate eyelashes.  

Emma could feel the thrumming of his life force beneath the palm that rested over his heart. She wondered if he was even aware of its rapid beat.  Looking at him from so close, she noted the exquisite planes of his face, the mystery in those eyes, and she felt something go all girly inside her, and she cursed that part of herself and sent it to its room.

She cleared her throat soft, but didn’t retreat. A slender finger pushed back an errant lock from her eye and she took a deep breath, catching his scent again. The primal scent sent a little shock down her spine right into her feminine core.

“My apologies….” she lied. “I meant no disrespect.” Of course, she hadn’t moved either, her hand continued resting on his chest.

For a moment confusion reigned supreme in those green agate eyes. “None taken.”  Emma watched as the mask of cold disdain snapped back into place; belied by the fact that he made no move to remove her hand from his chest. Each time before he would touch but refused to be touched.  “You are mortal and so subject to irrational fears.” His voice carried some of its natural arrogance, but it was tempered by confusion and doubt.

“True….” Emma confessed. “But there are advantages to mortality. When one knows life is fleeting and often brutally brief, mortals must learn to seize the day.”

With that, Emma shifted upon him and craned her neck upwards. Her soft lips brushed against his, as delicate as a feather against marble. Her eyes closed, Emma checked ‘kiss a god’ off her bucket list.

Surprised, Loki groaned at the sweet almost innocent touch of her lips. It reminded him of the first kiss of snow in Asgard. The warmth of the spring rain.  The sweet laughter of Sigyn as she led him a merry chase through the halls of his father’s house.   Was that her heart or his that beat at such a breakneck pace?  He lifted his hands to gently cup her face, to hold her still, so he could lose himself in that taste; lose himself in memories, previously tainted and long buried, that now bloomed bright and unsullied in his mind.

The he remembered. Remembered where he was, who she was and what he was. He pulled away so quickly they both nearly stumbled. It was his heart that threatened to beat through his chest.  He drew a calming breath.  Though he could not slow the beating of his heart so easily, he would not give her the satisfaction of knowing how she had she had affected him. He could not afford to give her that kind of power so early in the game.

 “So,” he smirked, all the evil and viciousness that he was known for back in his voice and in every line of his body, “was it all you ever dreamed about?”

Emma had fallen from the couch with a muffled thud on the plush carpet of the plane. She blew her bangs off her face as she looked at Loki with a very chilly expression.

“Barely. But then again, when it comes to godlings, my standards are shockingly low.”

He sniffed, “I can only work with what I’m given.” He ran his hand over his hair, his movements masking the little spell that slicked it back from the slightly disheveled state it was in from their kiss. How to get back on an even keel? Without conscious thought he offered his hand an innate courtesy, bred into him by the woman who would call herself his mother.

Emma looked at his hand, then back to his face, then to the hand again. She took it and stood up with as much dignity as she could manage. She turned away from him to fix her hair as best she could without a mirror and to close her jacket lest her stiffened nipples betray her.

“Now….shall we try to at the very least be civil with one another?” she asked coolly.

A smirking grin spread across Loki’s face.   This was who he was.  His fate spun by three hags he had never met, millennia before he was born.  That time before was…was..an anomaly and distraction.  This was what he was meant to be and who was he to deny the Fates?  Who was he to wish for something other than his destiny?  And why should he not enjoy himself while it lasted?

 The corner of his mouth quirked up showing a dimple Emma had never seen before. The mirth spread across his face, finally settling in his eyes. “I rather thought we were quite civil to one another a few moments ago,“ the words spilled out with a barely restrained laugh. “Any more civil and the lovely Lysette, would have had quite the show, don’t you agree my pet?” Loki jerked his head back and Emma noticed her erstwhile assistant staring opened-mouthed a split second before she ducked back into the galley the clatter of metal flatware breaking the silence.

Emma turned back towards Loki after giving Lysette a deadly glare, her smile light and sunny.  His shifting thoughts and emotions were enough to give one mental whiplash.

“I like that kind of civility….” she drawled, her eyes drawn to that smile and oh my god that dimple. She studied this new face, the one that lit up with that incredible smile. It lightened his whole being.  Until you looked in to his eyes.  He really was mad. 

Loki’s smile slowly faded in to uncertainty again. He found her scrutiny disconcerting. And that he found even more disconcerting. Why should he care what a mortal stared or did not stare at? He ignored her and made his way to the bar. There was a bewildering array of bottled beverages. Despite his Asgardian upbringing, he had never been a fan of drink. The loss of self-control was a danger for one such as he. Well perhaps not him specifically, but anyone within the reach of his magicks. His lips quirked briefly in amusement as his thoughts drifted to the memorable summer Thor spent as a comely milk-maid. He’d of course demanded to be immediately returned to his princely form, but Loki had been too far gone in his cups to remember exactly what spell he’d cast or how, so he could hardly reverse the spell. He’d spent a long hot summer searching through dusty tomes for a counter spell. After three months he’d found something that while it didn’t exactly reverse his spell was close enough. Thor really should have thanked him his newly long lashes and surprisingly smooth skin made him even more popular with the ladies at court.  To this day Loki marveled at his skill in creating such a complex spell on a whim, drunker than a shepherd on All Hallows.

He shook his head to clear it. He must be tired to have allowed his thoughts to wander so. There was nothing good that could come of remembering his past. He was beyond that now. He had passed what the mortals called the point of no return. Emma was still looking at him as if held the secrets of the universe. Poor foolish little girl, she’d realize soon enough she’d chained herself to a star that could only explode in a blaze of glory and take the entire universe with it.

 


End file.
